The Only Exception
by Her sister's keeper
Summary: Day Four prompt for Wickedly Wonderful Week of Reylo: Guitar Pick. Rey, a talent scout, initially seeks out up-and-coming rockstar Kylo Ren for First Order Records, but finds herself watching him, night after night, unable to approach.


"She's here again." The words were hushed, whispered in his ear by Phasma as they assumed their places onstage. Kylo glanced out at the crowd, eyes settling on the petite brunette in the back, her hazel eyes shining green in the flashing lights of the dance floor. Of course, she had to be looking at him, sizing him up, taking in his lanky frame as she always did, and so he fell into his new routine of sizing her up as well. Tonight she was wearing a black blazer, the silky material loose over what could have been a dress, could have been a romper (he wasn't sure about clothes at all, seeing how Hux insisted picking out all of his clothes), her hair down in waves, eye makeup heavy.

When he finally focused back on her face, she was smirking at him, eyebrow quirked as if to ask, "Like what you see?" He responded with a scoff, turning away to mutter at Phasma, "She's a groupie. Of course she's here again."

Kylo wasn't a big fan of groupies. He realized that it was ridiculous not to like them, seeing how they contributed to his band's success. But usually, groupies were a nuisance, attempting to get into their space, their pants, their lives. He didn't enjoy the attention like that, but when it came to this girl, the one who wasn't attempting to get close to the stage, content at the edge of the dance floor… he couldn't be sure. There was something about her that demanded attention but not in the usual "look at me, look at me" pleas of the other girls, the ones who were crowding at his feet, cooing his name. She was always there, yes, but she never confronted him. Never chased after him, baring her breasts, begging for autographs. Instead, she would finish her drink, curtly nod at him, and leave before the set ended, as if this was just business, not pleasure.

He never understood why she would leave so soon, why she wouldn't try to sneak a word with him, her eyes always so full of questions. She usually wouldn't even dance to the music, the occasional toe taps sufficing, her hands always busy on her phone. Despite his annoyance with her, Kylo also felt insulted when she wasn't paying attention to him, as if he wasn't worthy of her attention. He had worked too hard, given up too many things to not have his moment of attention on stage, but still, he couldn't begrudge the girl, especially now as she flashed a smile at him, almost apologetic for her lack of action, moving now onto the dance floor, her hips swaying, her eyes still locked on his.

Kylo couldn't place the feeling in his chest as he watched her dance, his fingers moving, practiced, across his guitar's strings, his voice low in the microphone. Tonight, he'd try to talk to her. It was an odd thing for him—groupies were not to be messed with, not to be engaged. But this girl was different, and he needed to know why there were moments when, alone in his dressing room, he expected (no, hoped for) her to appear, be it to confront him or be it to fuck him. Eventually, she melted into the crowd again, and he could shake himself out of his stupor, focus on the set, his bandmates seeming unaware of his decision.

His curiosity ended tonight.

She was at the bar when he finished his set, her fingers toying with her necklace, eyes focused on the bartender as he mixed her a drink. As he approached, he realized that her necklace's pendent was a guitar pick, the white plastic cracked and yellowing. It looked similar to the ones he used, cheap little things that he bought by the box, always breaking them, but he shrugged it off. It wouldn't surprise him if it was a gift from a former lover, another musician, if she was just another groupie, simply floating from band to band. Her eyes flickered to him as he sat down, her fingers not stilling as she considered him.

"You seemed distracted tonight." Her voice surprised Kylo, the British lilt unexpected in this kind of scene. It screamed luxury, private schooling, possibly even a fancy title. He cleared his throat, testing his words in the smoky air.

"That's what happens when a mystery woman catches your eye." She simpered at that, glancing at him almost shyly. "Would you like me to ruin the mystery?"

His mouth went dry for a moment, his head shaking before he could catch himself. "No." She laughed at him now, finally looking him full in the face.

"Good." With that, she turned back to her drink, taking a sip, leaving Kylo to study her in silence. He could hear the whispers of other groupies, farther down the bar, wondering what she had that they didn't, wondering why he was with her. He wondered the same thing, honestly—how a dirty, grungy wannabe rockstar was in the company of a pretty young lady who looked more at home in a country club than this dingy little bar.

"Who are you?" He blurted this out, but he had to know, attempting to put the pieces together of the curious case, her green eyes flashing at him over the rim of her martini glass. She put the glass down slowly, considering his question, finally fishing a business card from her pocket.

"Rey Kenobi. I'm a representative from First Order Records." She stuck her hand out awkwardly for him to shake, her slim, smooth hand becoming lost under his long calloused fingers. Kylo tried to ignore the flush creeping across his cheeks, not understanding why he would be blushing at a time like this. This was business, not pleasure—she wasn't a fan; just an interested talent scout. He'd probably never see her again.

"You want to offer the band a contract?" Rey fidgeted under the weight of the question, her cheeks pinking as well now.

"Not so much the band… the label is more interested in just you, Mr. Ren."

"Call me Kylo." He wasn't sure why he offered that, why he wasn't being hostile with her, why he was more hurt that her interest in him was purely business.

"Alright…Kylo. It's nothing against your band—I personally enjoy your work together—but the label thinks they know best, so they told me to recruit only you." She stood now, clearing her throat, watching his face.

"I'm going to have to say no-" "And I expected as much. So sorry to waste your time… If you'll excuse me…" Rey tried to push her way past him, suddenly being pulled back, his hand gentle but insistent on her arm.

"Why did you come?"

"It's my job—to observe and make sure the artist can perform naturally."

"Sure—maybe the first show. You've been to how many shows?" He could see her blush now, despite the darkened bar. She muttered something, and he grinned at her. "Come again?"

"Twelve. I've been to twelve shows." She coughed, trying to calm herself. Rey wasn't used to being so flustered, especially by potential clients. But she did have to admit that she let herself get carried away with this one, not approaching him at all, even though she should have attempted to strike a deal after the first show. But no.

No, there was something different about Kylo Ren, something that merited her time, something that made her feel like she was a tween again, crushing on musicians. She glanced down at the guitar pick dangling around her neck, her flush spreading down her neck as she remembered wrestling it away from another groupie after the second show, just because _he had touched it._ Rey prided herself on being a professional, but the likes of Kylo Ren didn't allow her to stay as professional, a thought that occurred to her as she took in his face, her gaze travelling from his eyes to his lips.

No, Rey Kenobi was a professional, and she certainly didn't kiss potential clients. However, he _did_ say no to the contract so… She shook her head at herself, gently pulling away from him. "It was…an honor to meet you, Kylo." Her words were slow, measured, and she wondered if she was letting him slip through her fingers, giving up on the chance of seeing him again, knowing that she was supposed to be climbing on a plane in six hours, hopefully with him in tow. This merited another head shake, because no, he didn't deserve the pressure the label would put on him.

The charm of Kylo and his band was that they weren't being controlled, that they were allowed to make decisions for themselves. First Order Records had a tendency to squash talent, attempting to streamline it and manufacture it. Better that he had turned her down.

"Rey." She glanced back at him now, curious as he stood now, towering over her, his eyes oddly pleading with her. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"I have a flight to catch…" "Can I get your number then?" She smiled at him now, blush returning as she looked for a pen, ready to write it on the back of her business card. A few moments more, and he'd have her office phone and her cell phone programmed into his mobile, ready to call, ready to chat, ready to woo.

Kylo wondered if he was risking something now, her hand warm against his lips as he kissed it. He wasn't this much of a gentleman, almost surprised with himself as he watched her leave. He glanced at her number, scrawled in red ink, and fought back a smile.


End file.
